


Panic Attack

by CaliBDiamond



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliBDiamond/pseuds/CaliBDiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another short TonyXSyri drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Panic Attack

Syriana probably should have been in with the medics, but she was just too exhausted to let someone poke and prod at her. Tony had already fished out the bullet that had hit her and had done a decent job patching her up; she didn’t need to see the medic. Not now. Sitting down hard on the floor of the Helicarrier locker room, the bruised and battered young woman ran her fingers through her tangled hair and tried to blink the blurriness out of her eyes. The tightness in her chest brought about by the sheer panic that had coursed through her the entire time they’d been seeking Michael out, had finally eased but she was still having difficulty breathing. Her fingers shook as she curled them into a fist in her lap, and tears had begun to sting the back of her eyes. She was so relieved to have her little brother back. Her father would have been proud of her, and her mother would probably praise her once they got back to New York. Despite knowing how happy she ought to feel, Syri couldn’t stop the wave of anxiety that finally crashed down on her. She’d bottled it up as long as she could, and she just couldn’t keep it in anymore.

Leaning back against the lockers, the brunette took in as deep of a breath that her lungs would allow and grit her teeth against the scream that threatened to escape. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she clutched at the torn material of her bodysuit and felt her entire body tense. The touch of a hand on her face had the battered woman opening her eyes to find Tony crouched nearby with a look of intense concern on his face.

“Princess?” His voice was as calm as it could be.

“I can’t breathe,” Syri confessed, reaching up to grip Tony’s arm.

“Panic attack?”

“Feels like it,”

“All right,” Tony sat down and gathered her up in his arms, ignoring the way she swatted at him in protest. The billionaire had learned that the little woman seemed to calm down quicker when she was held; it wasn’t something he was accustomed to doing yet, but over the last few weeks the trick seemed to work wonders. “Take it easy,”

“You don’t have to…” Syri insisted, coughing out a choked breath. “Tony—”

Shaking his head to silence her, the older man carefully skimmed a hand up and down her back, careful to avoid her injured shoulder. Slowly but surely, Syriana submitted to the touch and rested her cheek against his chest. She took slow, tiny breaths and kept her eyes closed until her lungs opened up and her body started to relax. Swallowing hard, she let out the sob that she’d tried so hard to suppress, and whimpered at the brush of lips against her temple.

“It’s all right now,” Tony told her, curling his fingers around one of her hands. “You’re safe. It’s over.”

“I’m sorry,” Syri sniffed, using her free hand to wipe at her eyes. “Jesus Christ, I tried to hold it in. I think it’s leftovers from going in to that place.”

“You did great, princess. You kicked ass out there.” Smiling faintly, the older man brushed hair out of her face and sighed. “You should get those wounds looked at, and maybe see if they’ve got Xanax on board.”

Snorting, the younger woman shook her head. “I just want to go home and sleep. But I know they won’t let me.”

“Why not?”

“We have to sit through a debriefing first.” Shrugging a shoulder, Syri moved to get to her feet, using Tony’s shoulders to help herself up. The billionaire kept one hand on her leg in a poor attempt to steady her as she opened the locker behind him and rifled through it to get to a pack of cigarettes in her dufflebag. “That’s the last thing I want right now.”

“Can’t we skip it?” Tony asked, watching her light up.

“ _You_ probably could,” Syri smirked, handing the pack down to him before she took a seat on the bench nearby. “You’re good at getting out of those things.”

“I’ll take you with me.” The older man smiled, lighting up one of the cigarettes. “We’ll run away together.”

An odd look crossed Syri’s face at the words, but the brunette didn’t comment. Heaving a sigh, she pushed the hair out of her face and took a deep drag of her cigarette. “Steve’s probably going to be there waiting when we land.”

“Right,” Tony made a face without really meaning to. “Captain Spandex will want to make sure you’re all right. After all, you were on a mission with _me_.”

“You were the best person for the job.” Syriana’s voice was quiet as she spoke, and she kept her eyes on her feet. “He knows that.”

“He’ll probably blame me for you getting shot.”

“I’ll tell him I was protecting Michael.”

“He’ll tell me that I should have taken care of the problem before that guy even had a chance to draw his weapon.”

“You were on the other side of the warehouse, Tony,” lifting her head, the younger woman scowled. “Stop doing that. Steve isn’t going to scold you. He knows I can be just as reckless as you can. There’s no blame to place on you at all.”

“I’m sure he’d find a way.” Tony mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, grunting when Syriana swatted his shoulder. “What was that for?”

“For a man who has an ego bigger than the solar system, you sure do know how to knock yourself down, Taplight.”

“Look who’s talking, princess.” A smirk curled the older man’s lips as he leaned back against the lockers and shot her a look. “Little Miss High and Mighty, thinks she’s better than everybody else in her department.”

“That’s because I _am_ , Tony.”

“You still haven’t proven that to me, you know.” Flicking the ash from his cigarette to the floor, Tony smirked wider. “For all I know, that Brian guy is the best S.H.I.E.L.D has to offer.”

“If that’s what you want to believe, fine. You can start sleeping with Brian, then.” Smiling in a too-sweet manner, Syri put her cigarette out and got to her feet. She sucked in a sharp breath as a lightheaded feeling washed over her, and grunted when Tony grabbed her hips to keep her from falling over.

“All right,” getting to his feet, Tony steadied the woman and dropped his cigarette to the floor. “You’re going to see the medic.”

“They’ll yell at me,” Syri mumbled, looking up at Tony. “For not coming in as soon as we got on board.”

“Well, I’d take care of it myself, but you’ve already gotten the extent of my medical treatment abilities.” Smiling tightly, Tony stooped to scoop the younger woman up.

Putting her arms around his shoulders with a miserable sounding grumble, Syriana sighed and relented. “ _Fine_.”

“Don’t look so defeated, princess,” Tony planted a kiss to the side of her head as he started for the door. “I’ll make sure you get the attention you need without the scolding.”

“Tony?”

“Hm?”

“This thing going on… between us,” Syri licked her dry lips and raised an eyebrow. “Is it over once we land?”

“As far as I’m concerned, it won’t be. Why?”

“Because as much as you make me sick sometimes,” the brunette lightly touched a fingertip to a bruise on Tony’s jaw. “I might be growing… _fond_ of you.”

“And what about Steve?”

Syri took a deep breath and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Studying her for a few moments, Tony simply nodded and opened the door. “We’ll figure it out. For now, we’ll keep it between us.” 


End file.
